It Wasn't Me

I have a problem.

Many, truthfully.

But this one in particular is a virile steamroller.

I despise being misinterpreted.

Not only despise -- but it destructs my daily activities.

Atleast until I confront these misinterpretations --

Either with the one who has perceived these misconceptions

or with myself.

I want people to know me.

To truly know me.

And not only to know me,

But to distinguish me.

In spite of this, I canopy myself and prance around in a masquerade.

I put on the veil of humor, crudeness or simple avoidance.

I am tremulous and hesitant to share myself.

I have this fear that someone will point out some inconsistency or flow in my being.

Possibly, I am more fearful to come to the conclusion that I'm not who I think I am.

Perhaps I'm merely a walking billboard of idealogies.

With no depth.

I think I am being challenged to discover me -- my thoughts, my ideas, my beliefs, my likes, my dislikes.

And it's quite enjoyable.

Truly being what I want to be.

Recommendations:

1. Gather fresh chicken eggs into a basket and make them for breakfast.

2. Go to Syria.

The Intersection

And here I am.

Walking in the sky.

Where the sky meets the ground.

Although we can't see the blue,

Doesn't mean the blue isn't around.

We see it when we look up.

But we can't see it at our right.

We are all in the sky.

We are at the intersection of the blue & green.

And underneath us busyiness in the dirt brown.

The layers of the earth each carrying life.

The ants and the rats and the grasshoppers.

And here we are.

Walking on the final layer of the earth.

Where the blue & the green intersect.

We are the bridge between this blue & this green.

And so I say.

When I die.

Lay me in the field where the blue & the green intersect.

Where my death brings life.

Where the flowers can feed from me and grow into the sky.

Where the creatures of the dirt can feast and celebrate.

And my very death can continue to give life to this place.

Where the blue and the green intersect.